Over the past few weeks, we have shared a bite sized history lesson about the 2012 Dustball Rally. We hope that you’ve enjoyed this absolutely fascinating ride.

This is post 5/5 covering our participation in the 2012 Dustball Rally.

• Post #1: Merging the Absurd (Rallying) with Us (Crazy) - SportsCarHunter Joins a Rally
• Post #2: The Car Rally Hasn’t Even Started, and We’re Doing What?! - SportsCarHunter’s Day Before the Dustball Rally
• Post #3: BLASTOFF! The 2012 Dustball Rally Speeds Past Day 1
• Post #4: What Doesn’t Break You Down Makes You Go Faster - Day 2 of the 2012 Dustball Rally

8/3/12

7:00 am It is Day 3 of the 2012 Dustball Rally. No one dares light a match – half the teams may combust after the night everyone just had on 6^th Street. Teams are gathering on a garage rooftop in downtown Austin, Texas. Team SportsCarHunter isn’t among the living right now. No, we are nowhere to be found.

7:35 am RRRRRING! RRRRRING! RRRRRING!

 “Uhhhello?” Marcus mumbles into the hotel telephone.

An ominous voice is on the other line. It is yelling at us. We can’t make out the words, but we think the rally just left.

7:40 am “Who’s bright idea was it to leave Austin at 7am? I mean really? What are these people made of?!” I am ranting to no one in particular in a very, very hot shower. The hotel room is turning into a sauna. New Orleans is over 500 miles away. I need to sweat excessively.

7:45 am My cell phone is ringing, “Dude, we forgot a bag in our room. Can you pick it up for us? Door should be unlocked.” #96 Bentley Bros have forgotten their shit after waking up at the crack of dawn. They’re getting breakfast and plan on riding with us, in the #85 Z4, and our teammates in the #26 Vantage into New Orleans.

“Marcus, I remember coming back with the #14 G8, #96 Bentley Bros, and #99 Charger teams…but where were you and David?”

“Dude. I. Don’t. Remember.” Marcus croaked “Water. I need water.”

7:50 am I am tweeting “Oh shit, where is Dustball Rally?? MO MONEY MO PROBLEMS!! We got pastel money. It’s cool.” It really wasn’t.

I recall some teams hinting about Day 3 being, “the only finish line that mattered”. Was that the clue these veterans had been hiding? It’s all cordial fun until the finish line?

We had to get the hell out of Austin.

7:55 am We are on the elevator with bags everywhere. We look terrible, probably smell worse. A cute couple who has to painfully share the ride with us comments, “Bavarian flag, nice!”

“Jaaa, Herr Marcus loves zeee pretzels un Austin! You look like Volksvagen material! Do you drive a VEEEE DOVULEUUU on zee Autobahn??” I reply.

“No, but I am from Berlin.” The man responds.

It’s real awkward. Real fast.

8:08 am I’m calling out Team Flat Out in the #41 335i on Twitter, “Y’all should’ve stayed out later. Wimps.”  I am a fool for making fun of them. They actually made the start. The early birds of Day 3 are 30 miles ahead.

“They’re in a large enough group where they can own the road and snake past slower traffic” Analyzes Marcus “They have strength in numbers.”

It would be near impossible for us to catch up.

(look closer for emphasis of our situation)

8:20 am We are leaving three teams to battle for last place. There’s the #00 Aston, the #13 Cobalt, and lastly the #76 WRX STI, which is covered bumper to bumper in soft-core porn. Hilarious.

“Whoever did this had to of been still wayyyy messed up from the night before.” We say in unison.

An hour after the rally officially departed, we follow suit, winding our way to the bottom of the garage.

“Dammit! I left the parking ticket in the room.” I curse, gunning the engine and sliding the car underneath the garage gate. The #85 Z4 barely makes it underneath.

8:24 am For the third straight day I am wearing my Cannonball Pilot uniform and Marcus has his leather racing cap and driving goggles on. There are two women staring at us as we are leaving the parking garage in a flurry of burnt rubber and Monopoly Money. Talking Heads’ Naïve Meoldy “This Must Be the Place” is blaring out of our roadster’s speakers.

“Feet on the ground
Head in the sky
It’s ok I know nothing’s wrong . . nothing”

I pull the car up beside the two women.  Within seconds we are a hung-over Gordon Gekko and Bud Fox, tossing armful after armful of Monopoly Money at them.

“Never for money
Always for love
Cover up + say goodnight … say goodnight”

Halfway through the song we switch to Mardi Gras beads. A crowd is forming around our barrage of colorful rally essentials.

“Feet on the ground
Head in the sky
It’s ok i know nothing’s wrong . . nothing”

8:28 am Our cabin is empty of all rally ammunition. The song finishes. We finally leave the hotel rotunda with a massive party path in our wake. “Congrats,” Marcus chuckles, “We just kept Austin weird!”

8:29 am We’re pulling into a gas station just down the road. Our teammates, David and James, are fueling up their #26 Vantage.

“Yo! What’s happening guys?!” David asks in his typical jovial tone, still looking three sheets to the wind.

“Nothing man, we had the strangest thing happen to us this morning. Someone called our room. We have no idea who they are or what they said. It’s a miracle we’re even awake right now!” .

“Ha, that was Pops, he’s a hawk! Woke up earlier than I did and he got home later than us! Even after the race!”

“Race? What are you talking about?” I ask, confused.

“Marcus and I paid two pedicabs to race from the bars on 6^th Street last night. We had to pay each dude like fifty bucks in order to get them to do it! It was like being a jockey! Those guys hauled ass!” David laughed.

6^th Street turns in to a pedestrian walkway for several blocks on weekends. One way for tourists to get home is to be driven by a man on a bike, horse and buggy style.

“OH YEAHHHH! That was how we got home last night!” Marcus remembered “I lost because my driver couldn’t comprehend what a rally was! He had NO HORSEPOWER. I tried speaking German to him and he didn’t like that AT ALL! Dude just didn’t get it…”

8:32 am I am placing a Dustball Rally sticker next to the pump and peel out of the gas station. For the first time in four days I don’t spill Marcus’ coffee. He nods in appreciation.

8:35 am We are traveling on Austin’s famous double-decker highway. In 1975 a 2-mile set of elevated express lanes were added to I-35. There was no room to build out, so the city was forced to build up. The lower features short on- and off-ramps with limited visibility. The upper ramp features expansive views, lighter traffic, nicer cars, and the opportunity for a Dustball Rally roadster to unload on the economically depressed underneath them.

“Clearly all the rich people ride on the top.” I explain. “Up here, we have a better view, are away from the dangerous traffic, and can look down at everyone below us and call them names. What they really need to do is license cars to be up here, line the streets with gold, put flatscreens with SportsCenter on the side of the road, air condition it, etc…”

This explanation is far too long for Twitter, so I decide to tweet, “I like Austin hwy’s. Rich ppl go higher, poor ppl go lower. Monopoly money floating down to the masses.”

A pastel blitz is flying out of our hands and raining down fifty feet on those driving the lower slum highway. We do this for two straight miles.

8:37 am Team W0T’s driver, Blake, has just sent us a tweet about the #76 WRX STI covered in nudie photos, “Nice!! Can’t wait to see it, still in bed haha. See y’all in NOLA!”

“Are they seriously just waking up? They might as well hand wrap their finishing place to someone else. We are not finishing behind the main pack.” I declare.

8:59 am We spot Team #96 Bentley Bros in their sleek black Continental GT. “Now we have a pack!” Marcus exclaims, as they join up with our #26 Vantage and #85 Z4. He’s still giddy about driving with a Continental.

Rallying with only two cars can be dangerous. There are only two outcomes – you go entirely too fast or you go entirely too slow. With three cars, like we have now, the dynamic changes. You’re able to attack the pavement, knowing that there are at least 12 eyes on the road looking for opportunities to bank time.

9:11 am We are discussing the two days in New Orleans ahead of us, “Oysters, beignets, & bourbon!” Marcus explains. 

I agree wholeheartedly. We finally have some momentum. We’re passing a hell of a lot more cars than we should be. We are catching up.

9:36 am A nice Ford Mustang Shelby matches our pace for a few miles.

9:40 am Unfortunately the Cobra isn’t rallying and can’t keep up.

“They need a lesson from the Dustball Mustangs!” Marcus scolds, throwing out some Monopoly Money at the wasted horsepower.

10:05 am We are stuck in monotonous traffic. The delay offers us a chance to study Twitter and figure out how far behind we really are.

 “60 miles behind first place…Do we stick to the route or haul on the highway to catch up?”

The highway presents a strange opportunity. We could travel in a more direct route but it would inevitability be at slower speeds and heavier traffic than the back roads taken by the rally.

“Highway.” Marcus responds unquestionably. He sounds like shit and we would never catch up going the costal route.

10:19 am After another Twitter check, I exclaim to Marcus, “The #77 Camaro stayed back in Austin to help get the #51 Lambo repaired! There can’t more than ten cars ahead of us! This is still possible!”

This turn of events energizes Team SportsCarHunter. Less than two hours ago we were 4^th from last. Dustball Rally finish line bottom feeders. Now, with at least a quarter of the rally still in Austin, we had a shot.

11:38 am I get word over social media that, “They’re converting the #51 Lambo from four wheel drive to rear wheel drive.”

I’m getting the distinct feeling that the broken down Italian/German Gallardo has made my codriver rather upset. I open up the glove box and show him a hidden cache of Monopoly Money. Marcus’ mood instantaneously improves.

11:57 am We are 70 miles behind the lead pack after taking a lunch break to meet up with Marcus’ family just outside of Houston. We are all happy to have the half hour rest and Chic-Fil-A in our systems, but all our banked catch-up time has been erased.

12:45 am “Bentley Bros are taking a wrong turn!” Marcus points, as the black #96 heads downtown Houston.

“Given their twin turbo, we’ll see them in no time!” I reason after reading their text to go on ahead.

1:48 pm The Dustball lead pack is hooning it up on the beach. They’re busy taking wide angle shots of rally cars.

Team Siebzehn in the #17 Z06 is frolicking along the beach with their German accents.

I decide not to say anything to Marcus, in fear that he would rip the logbook in half at the news of those West Germans having so much fun.

2:02 pm The #26 Vantage & #85 Z4 are fueling up on the far side of Lake Charles in Louisiana as the Bentley Bros finally catch up, further emphasizing the issues of falling behind. We had not seen them in over an hour, even though they were driving a rally beast much more powerful than ours.

Bentley Bro’s, Matt, is cracking three beers with the rest of the codrivers – Marcus and David, in addition to the onboard cameraman for this leg, Trevor. “Nothing out of the ordinary!” I say to Chris, the driver of the #96.

2:12 pm I’m adding it up in my head and can’t believe what I am seeing. “Guys, we could be ahead of the pack at this point. We may beat everyone to New Orleans!”  By avoiding Highway 82, we were doubling the early birds pace.

2:15 pm I’m having a revelation. I don’t really want to be all alone when we get to New Orleans. The most fun parts of the rally were riding in to El Paso with the DFW snake, hitting “Blastoff” with six other cars, and leading the attack on the twisties of San Antonio and Austin.

“Marcus, what if we pulled over just past Lafayette and waited for everyone else to catch up?” I asked.

He was napping. Again.

We had been fighting to place this whole rally. Should we really give up the opportunity for first?

3:40 pm The rain clouds are forming outside New Iberia, Louisiana – 130 miles outside of New Orleans. Our #85 Z4’s miniscule 13 gallon fuel tank is running low, and we hadn’t made a consensus on slowing down or speeding up.

Patrons are venturing out of a small gas station casino that we have parked at. They’ve apparently made bets on what type of cars we had. “We don’t see anything very fast around here!” A local explains.

I’m busy looking up at the sky, it’s bound to rain, but decide to throw more Mardi Gras beads on our roll bars as Marcus affixes the Bavarian flag to fly out the back of our BMW. It looks too cool to not add a little more. “Nothing’s wrong with a little excess when it comes to New Orleans.” David quips.

I ask, “We are 40 minutes ahead of the gulf coast rally teams. There are about ten cars on a ferry this way now. Do we wait or do we push into The Big Easy?”

Answer: Unanimous motion to wait. Fuck the podium finish. It wouldn’t matter anyway if no one was there to see it. We would rally as a group.

The gulf coast group was just getting off their ferry.

4:23 pm I am Tweeting with Team Siebzehn in the #17 Z06, assuming they would be at the front of the gulf coast pack. This shocks Marcus.

I reason, “Team SportsCarHunter has given up the opportunity to come in first, so we might as well tear down the Berlin Dustballwall that’s been created over the last few days. Plus, it was New Orleans…and they had Speedos. We didn’t want to be targets!”

4:30 pm Teams #25, #85, #96 slice down a back road highway to intercept the Gulf Coast cars. It’s like we took a RIDE ON THE READING by riding highways all the way here. Now we wait for the rest of the rally to PASS GO & COLLECT $200!

I set up a welcoming party by throwing down excessive amounts of Monopoly Money on the road. Confetti flies every time a car goes by. It’s the perfect “Hello!” to everyone we’re meeting up with when all of a sudden we spot the first cars:

The camera crew’s red Range Rover flies by…

4:31 pm …Followed by the black Deanslist.US’s #07 911.

4:32 pm I spy the blue #17 Corvette and am jumping out of the driver’s seat to stand by the roadside. Finally, it took them long enough… I had been waiting two days for this payback.

I’m tapping my watch as they coast by – mocking the time discrepancies between their car and ours. “Herr Langsamrennendrivers!” I laugh to Marcus.

“Took ‘em long enough!” Marcus laughs back.

4:34 pm After those first three cars passed, a handful of other teams round the bend: Team Flat Out in the silver #41 BMW 335i, Team Radar Love in the silver #43 Corvette, and Team Firestarter  in the red #66 Fire Truck.

“Was that all of them?”

“I don’t know, I thought there were more!”

“Should we wait?!”

The #26 Vantage, #85 Z4, and #96 Bentley Bros are at a standstill.

I make the decision to haul ass. Just like that, we’re behind again. We have to make up three minutes from a dead stop. Time to haul.

4:42 pm We are chasing behind, flooring it every chance we get. I get a message from Dan in the #41 335i “GUN IT! No enforcement for next 3 miles!”

90.

95.

I try to signal to the #26 Vantage and #96 Bentley Bros, but we’re going too fast for them to understand what is going on.

100.

105.

Marcus puts down his binoculars for a second, “The road is open for the next mile.”

115.

120.

I see the #66 Fire Truck’s roof lights.

125.

130.

 “We’reeeee bacccckkkkk!”

5:13 pm The snake of Dustball Rally cars leading into New Orleans is now six deep, with the #43 Corvette spearing the way into the city. Our smiles are as big as they’ve been all day.

“There’s something about owning the road with a group this size. We are 70 miles out. Less than an hour left. What a rally!” Marcus explained.

“I agree completely” It’s all I could muster, my feelings being the exact same.

5:24 pm 400 miles away the pack that helped the #51 Lambo was just getting back on the road.

And just ahead of them is the rest of our original DFW group. The #76 WRX STI had some serious engine issues. “The video game may be over for Tony!” I joke.

6:09 pm “NOLAAAAA!” Marcus shouts, as we get our first glimpse of the city.

6:11 pm Our spiritsnare on another level. I’m holding out a handful of beads, letting the wind take them all over, when the #41 335i pulls alongside. They are driving Bavarian. They don’t have German colored beads. I needed to fix this.

The logical thing would have been to set the cruise control at 85, match speeds, and pass ‘em off. That didn’t happen.

The beads are flying back, we have to get our cars within inches of each other to pull off the handoff and after 30 seconds of supremely dangerous driving, it’s just not going to happen.

My contacts are about as dry as they could ever be and I am forced to look down, accidently pulling the wheel left in the process, nearly sideswiping our two cars in the process.

Just like that, the cars inched close enough for a successful handoff.

“Told you we needed to rally with those guys into New Orleans” Marcus mocked, nearly shitting himself from the sideswipe that just happened!

We pull ahead and in a flash throw out 500+ bills of Monopoly Money at the guys in the 335i in celebration!

VICTORYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!

The #96 Bentley Bros see this and proceed to hit every. single. car. in our line up for the next ten miles. “It’s like they’ve been stockpiling all the Monopoly Money we’ve given them!” said my, very impressed, codriver.

6:28 pm After a nasty standstill traffic jam, the #43 Corvette is leading the snake out of the highway traffic the and into downtown New Orleans. We caught up with the black #07 911, the blue #17 Z06, and red camera Range. It had been a foot by foot crawl for the last ten minutes, but now we’re driving straight at the Super Dome.

“Is this planned?” I ask

“No, I think we’re lost. And I love it!” Marcus smiled.

Each team is doing a lap around the historic Super Dome - a Louisiana icon unlike any other. It’s known as the Mercedes-Benz Super Dome now, after purchasing the sponsorship rights in 2011. There are ads for Mercs all over the place.

“How about that SLS for 2013?” Marcus suggests, pointing towards a Benz gullwing advertisement.

“Giving up on her that quickly?” I retort back, tapping the dash on the #85 Z4. “I think she’s become something else. I think this little black widow has earned at least another opportunity to rally with the best of them.”

6:29 pm Our BMW’s LOW OIL flashes for the first time, accompanying the CHECK ENGINE SOON alert that has been on since Day 1.

“Ha! She’s telling me she needs a beer.”

“Deserving of a keg at this point.” Marcus nodded, finally agreeing that the car had transcended its bodywork.

6:30 pm I am in a daze. The past few weeks have been a whirlwind. From a dismantled engine on life support exactly one month ago, to a highway deer impact a week ago, and the 8,000 miles added to the odometer just to get here…I’m feeling a little mental.

“If you look at the facts and figures, you would take something else.” I explained, pointing out that a BMW Z4 is not at all the ideal rally car. “The gas tank alone can’t hold more than an eye dropper…”

“Honestly, facts and figures would be against most of the cars on the Rally. Everyone doing the 2012 Dustball is insane in their own right.” I continue.

“We are all just looking for deserted perfection on an open highway…looking for a few sports cars ahead and a few more in the rearview…looking for our limits on asphalt spaghetti…looking for the rush of going a little too fast…with enough of the same people to make us feel normal while doing it.”

In this moment I fully accept that we weren’t going to be the first to the finish in New Orleans. No, what mattered now, in this bumper to bumper downtown traffic, is finishing alongside our teammates in the #26 Vantage.  It was all about who you started with, and for us, that was David and James.

6:48 pm “Over there, at the valet!” Marcus is pointing across the street. They were at the front of the line. I dart ahead.

6:49 pm I pull even with David and James. They are beaming, “MADE IT!”

6:50 pm A Marriot employee is running beside the car, “DON’T MOVE! We have a parade coming through. Sit still. You are fine. They will pass right by.”

6:51 pm I hear a familiar tune blaring from somewhere behind us.

6:52 pm An entire marching band is passing by on the closed street….

“Oh, when the saints go marching in!
Oh, when the saints go marching in!
Lord, how I want to be in that numberrrrrrrrrrrrr!

A few hundred people are either in the street tailing the parade, following along the sidewalk, or watching from a corner. Our #85 Z4 is in the dead middle of it all.

I find the beat of the drum and sing, “When the saints go marching innnnnnnnnnnnn!” while throwing a huge stack of Monopoly Money.

This gathers some attention around the car. Now I’m handing out Mardi Gras beads. Within fifteen seconds there is a run on everything not bolted down to our car. German beads are flying off the roll bars, stickers are being passed out, Monopoly Money is being thrown, and we are running out of koozies…

“Hey, you look fratty, you need a koozie!” I shout over to a college-aged guy dressed head to toe in pastel khaki.

“I have a koozie collection, 100+, SO DOWN to add another from all these sick cars!” He laughs back.

This dude was great…and it looked like there was 20 David/Marcus/Ryan’s along with him. NOLA was going to be absurd if it had anywhere close to this many people who were as excessive as us.

6:56 pm I’m in line at the parking garage, waiting to get in. Every few minutes a handful of rally drivers rev their engines. We are a chorus of horsepower.

6:58 pm “Our fraternity is having their annual convention here in NAWLINS!” David exclaimed, explaining the koozie conversation I had a few minutes ago with the student in head to toe pastel khaki.

This meant that 500 fratty dudes would all be out on Bourbon Street the entire weekend we were here. “I better start rationing the koozies!” I shout back to David.

7:15 pm I’m parked to the side in the valet garage, cleaning out the car. It’s an absolute mess. Two straight mornings of rapid exits, coupled with the mix of Monopoly Money blitzes and bead throwing of the past day has left the BMW in a state of shock.

I’m working through each nook and cranny. This BMW is not a big car, but we fit a lot in to it. I notice a few of the teams coming in, one by one. I say hello to as many as I can, trying to savor the moment as long as possible. We all deserved a pat on the back.

7:40 pm I was reminded of the many rallies and automotive races I’ve followed over the years.  What always impressed me the most, beyond absolutely anything else, was the state of the cars at the very end.

If the cars aren’t outright wrecked they‘ll have bugs meshed to the grill. The paint around the exhausts will be scorched black. There may be pieces missing or burnt straight through.

There might be a rim with a lick of road rash all over it.

There could be road tar splattered across half the windshield. The car may look a little battered but it’s still standing.

Proudly.

I went on to photograph every angle I could, documenting the evidence that driver and navigator had pushed their rally car to the limits.

Team SportsCarHunter’s #85 BMW Z4 3.0si had completed the 2012 Dustball Rally.

EPILOGUE Part I – Rooster tails in the rain.

I was literally drenched in sweat by the time I finished cleaning the car out…but damn did the #85 look good. There were bug-impact craters from headlight to headlight. A rouge strip of tar covered up the vinyls on the windshield. A piece of the inner wheel well had gone missing, lost somewhere over the last thousand miles. A back rim oozed something black. The replacement hood badge still didn’t match the rest of the car, evidence that we had pushed it from the very start. We had rallied hard, the car showed it, and I loved it all the more.

The DFW rally group was having a drink in the busy Marriot lobby whenever I finally walked in.

 “Did you really throw Monopoly Money down at the people on the lower highway in Austin?”

I smiled, pointed to my green “Show Me the Money” Mr. Monopoly shirt, and laughed.

The rally had been one hell of an exercise in persistence (to even make it), nerves (to survive it), and the unexpected (to become friends with so many other crazy people). I wanted to sit down with the guys and have a drink to talk about the final day but decided to retire to the room, organize everything I had taken out of the car, and get ready for The Swamp – a bar that Dustball had rented out for the night on Bourbon.

In this time of reflection I sent out an Official Announcement over Twitter, “Team SportsCarHunter WILL be “Adopting A Highway” immediately upon our return in honor of #DustballRally”.”

What does this all entail?

• You adopt a two-mile stretch of highway for a minimum of two years.
• You agree to pick up litter four times per year (more in some areas due to traffic count)
• Adopt-a-Highway signs will be posted with your group’s name at your adopted section.
• Adopt-a-Highway will provide your volunteers with safety vests, litterbags and safety training.
• You bask in the glory of claiming a piece of Texas pride.

…and it will be sponsored by something creative – we owe the many roads of Texas and Louisiana nothing less.

The roads themselves were unique to each day: The open expanse of traveling west to El Paso, the Guadalupe Mountains at the edge of New Mexico to “Blastoff” on what seemed like Planet Mars, Texas on Day 1; the gut-check and grin inducing hills of the Texas Hill Country on Day 2; and the joy of rejoining a rally snake and the parade finish in New Orleans on Day 3.

It was nearly 10pm by the time I grabbed my Cannonball Pilot’s hat, an armful of Mardi Gras beads, and Monopoly Money to head out the door. Bourbon Street was already an absolute mess this early at night. Our SportsCarHunter stickers were printed with the text “Destination Bourbon St” on them. We had arrived.

By midnight an entire block of Bourbon was covered in Monopoly Money.

Everyone on the rally had thrown out hundreds of thousands of dollars worth.

The road below us looks like a drunk version of Candyland.

Our British and German Mardi Gras beads ran out in less than an hour as well.

David and I had to go back to the hotel to get more.

The Swamp didn’t seem to mind our mess (there’s no such thing as littering in New Orleans) and we made sure to tip the bar accordingly.

The next day and a half in New Orleans went exactly as a day and a half in New Orleans should go.

During the day we walked around the French Quarter, at dinner we ate magnificent food, at night we took on Bourbon St…usually losing…but at least we had a great time doing it.

On the second night we found the DFW Dustballers huddled in the oldest bar in America. A grand piano played by candlelight as a dozen of us talked track days.

At 11 Team SportsCarHunter decided to head back to the hotel, but was forced to stop at only German bar on Bourbon – on principle.

Those two days saw us talking Dustball Rally to every stranger who would give us their attention as we placed our stickers on every post that looked unblemished.

On Sunday we left with a mixed group of Team W0T in the silver blue #00 Aston, Team Four Horsemen  in the silver #44 Ford Mustang GT,  Team Abilities Unlimited  in the blue #76 Subaru WRX STI, Team Rush Hour aka Bentley Bros in the black #96 Bentley Continental GT, and lastly Team Siebzehn in the blue #17 Chevrolet Z06.

It turns out Siebzehn’s Jeremy and John Paul are great guys. Their Bavarian eccentricities are unrivaled – even by native Germans. It wouldn’t have been anywhere near as much fun of a rally without the cat and mouse game of their goofiness and Marcus and I’s obsession with everything Autobahn. We just hadn’t had as much time to hone in our accents or tone up for Speedos. There may be a joint coalition in the future, if they ever decide to ride in a properly engineered car. Again, Die Fienden Piloten be dammed.

We were late to leave the hotel on Sunday, again, but luckily got out of valet in record time. Our whole group took a lap around Bourbon Street at noon. Oh how the day changes. We threw out what beads and Monopoly Money we had left to those brave enough to be awake.

Half an hour west of the city we stopped in a small Louisiana town and ate KFC. I recall saying, “I will order a chicken pot pie and simply pour it down my throat.” I could barely talk, the rally had sapped my abilities to even eat, and it was time to go home.

At a nearby gas station Tony, of #76 WRX STI fame, helped out our LOW OIL warning by passing off some of his extra motor oil. His, now weakened, Pokeball Blue Fury WRX STI had needed an oil top off every hundred miles. Without his aftermarkets working right though, he had extra to share.

When we jumped on the highway, at the end of the line, just behind Siebzehn’s #17 Z06, my dash blew up like Christmas and the engine slowed to a crawl. We told the group to rally on ahead. It would be 40 miles until the straight six farted and we got above 4000 RPM.

Storms hit across western Louisiana into Texas the entire day. It’s a quiet car ride back to DFW. Finally alone. Under the speed limit. Rooster tails in the rain.

EPILOGUE Part II - An insult to everyone who can’t afford the option.

When I first heard about the Dustball Rally, there was no, “No”. I had to do it. I had to have my friends do it. I was tired of being able to press the reset button on my Playstation. “No more excuses, it was time to Rendezvous” I recall telling all my friends on a winter evening many months ago.

Out of all the races, movies, films, documentaries, articles, and stories about open road revelation – Rendezvous reigns supreme.

The film, C’était un rendez-vous, is a simple nine-minute early morning drive through downtown Paris filmed in 1976. It begins in a quiet tunnel where you, the viewer, are immediately assaulted by a revving engine, shifting, and the reverberation of squealing tires against the cobblestones. Pedestrians scatter like pigeons as red lights are ignored and one-ways are assaulted. Center lines don’t matter in Rendezvous, and the rush of emotions during these 500 seconds nearly put me into a coma.

The film was so controversial at the first screening that director Claude Lelouch was arrested. As such, copies of the run were rarely available, and if so only on the black market for $100’s of dollars. In 2003, 27 years after filming, and six months of difficult talks, Rendezvous had a limited print run on DVD.

The 72 hours, that’s all it “officially” was, of our Dustball Rally was the juice spun from the pulp of Rendezvous itself. I’ve tasted that nectar, and let me tell you, it’s damn good.

Have you ever assumed that a car was something you just bought and drove within a given set of limits such as traffic law and your driving kill? The Dustball Rally, Redevous, and Alex Roy’s The Driver are here to show you that a car can be something else, and way more than, as many people joke, an expression of the owner’s manhood. A car isn’t just an expression of our taste and finances.

“How many times have I walked past Cipriani on West Broadway, home of innumerable husband-hunting, fake breasted girls who work in public relations, only to see a handsome young banker pull up in a brand-new red Ferrari 360? The model/actress swoon. The driver sits with his friends and explains the options he chose this time – carbon brakes, racing exhaust – and how he couldn’t get it exactly the way he wanted. He talks about how fast he drove downtown from the Upper East Side, four miles away. His friends are impressed until one remarks that he’s soon taking delivery of the even newer F430. “A lot more power,” the friend brags, flashing his Panerai diving watch and smiling at the girls at the next table. “You should order one.” The 360 driver smirks with jealousy, knowing he will when his lease runs out.

Not one of these people will ever hunt, cave dive or race, or attempt anything that would endanger their purebred dog, Italian navy diving watch, or custom ordered car, let alone their own safety, unless well paid, forced, or shamed into it.

This is the message of Redezvous – it’s not what you have, it’s what you do with it.

Rendezvous demonstrated what one can do, must do, if one owns a car like a Ferrari. There is no dignity in bragging about one’s car when it has never surpassed 50 percent of its maximum speed, or in comparing diving watches that have never seen the ocean, let alone a shower, or in driving to a restaurant where the girls see not a car but the promise of the rest of their lives pulling up in front of expensive restaurants in bright red sheet metal and tan leather. There is only the absurd cash outlay for the best engineering on four wheels, the question of what equally outrageous challenge it must be put to, and whether that test will be sufficient to please the god of decadence from whose domain the car has been borrowed. To do any less is far worse than wearing $200 sneakers for a pleasant stroll, or domesticating an animal meant to roam free – it’s eating McDonald’s in Paris, it’s watching porn instead of having sex with one’s girlfriend, it’s returning from war with one’s gun unfired. Such second-rate decadence is worse than bad taste. It is not a victimless crime. It’s an insult to everyone who can’t afford the option.”

-The Driver

Have a lesser car? Can’t afford something spectacular? Rubbish. Buy some bravery. Join a rally.

Dallas to Miami in 2013.

Thank you for reading “Oysters, Beignets, & Bourbon - The Final Day of the 2012 Dustball Rally”

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-Sports Car Hunter Ry

Over the next few weeks, we are going to take you from the genesis of the endurance road trip to the modern international road rally. Each day we will share a bite sized history lesson about the development of this motorsport. We hope that you’ll join us for this absolutely fascinating ride.

This is post 3/5 covering our participation in the 2012 Dustball Rally.

• Post #1: Merging the Absurd (Rallying) with Us (Crazy) - SportsCarHunter Joins a Rally
• Post #2: The Car Rally Hasn’t Even Started, and We’re Doing What?! - SportsCarHunter’s Day Before the Dustball Rally

8/1/2012 – Dustball Rally Day 1

6:30 am My cell phone is shrieking. Again. This feels like Groundhog Day. I spent too much time last night cleaning out the car in the hotel garage. We had crap everywhere. Wires, 5 Hour Energy Bottles, protein bar wrappers, Mardi Gras beads, sunglasses, and a shit ton of Monopoly Money.

We literally had no space. The beads were taking up a good third of the trunk. #15 Team Saint Mini empathized with our situation and graciously offered to store beads, Monopoly Money, and an empty gas container for the next day. We could breathe tomorrow.

“Four and a half hours of sleep is better than three”, I said to Marcus as he donned his bomber jacket.

Weeks ago we had set up a plan of German military excess. Day 1: Cannonball Pilot/Bomber uniforms. Day 2: German National Soccer Team uniforms. Day 3: vintage German military fatigues.

“Dammit, I wish those uniforms would have arrived on time!” Marcus grumbled as he spat out a sip of hotel room coffee. “Spshhhh, and the coffee is shit too!”

The World War era uniforms we had ordered shipped late. I was relieved at first, but I  now echoed my navigator’s dissatisfaction. I wanted to blitzkrieg after watching #17 Team Siebzehn ham it up for the news cameras in front of their, very American, Chevrolet Z06.

Nevertheless, my pilot hat with a real Cannonball Run patch would suffice. I quickly place a “Free Parking” and second set of aviator wings on my pilots sport coat. Marcus had just finished situating his driving cap and goggles as well.

6:45 am We spy a few DFW teams eating breakfast in the lobby. “No need to rush guys” they suggest. Pros. I want to look cool too but I’ve been waiting seven months for today.

6:50 am We are late and our fuel is low. I swing into a gas station and fill up. Marcus walks out with a fresh coffee.

He spills half the cup as I drift into the road. I apologize, “Sorry, it’s just the traction control dash alerts on BMW look like so much fun lit up!” He used to have a 7-series so he empathizes, “That warning light is badass.”

6:59 am I speed into the park. There’s a group of police motorcycles waiting to parade us out. Where to? We’re not sure. Hell, nothing looks familiar around here; we’ve never been to El Paso.

7:10 am For as much organizing I did the last night, the car is a wreck from leaving the hotel in such a hurry. I take time to sort out our on-board HD video camera, other electronics, and ammunitions.

We are parked next to the black #96 Team Rush Hour Bentley Continental GT. Marcus is in awe. We have had an ongoing argument over the last three months as what would be the ideal rally car would be. He is dead set on a Supersports whereas I point out that a DB9, DBS, Virage, or Rapide would take you there in style. I use the parking spot as an olive branch to my navigator, plus these guys seem cool.

“Hey what’s going on guys?” One of the huge Bently Bros asks. “Just call me Jackie Chan, and that big dude over there, call him Chris Tucker!” One guy was Asian, the other was black. They were bros, and knew how to be funny. I pass them our extra remote radio. I’m doing this half for Marcus and his constant bitching about Bentley’s and half for us to make friends with the biggest dudes on the trip. If I was going to piss anyone off throwing Monopoly Money at them, it would help to have two giants on our side.

7:35 am The camera crew asks everyone to gather at the edge of the parking lot. We take a group photo. I remember looking at last year’s Dustball Rally group photo…it seemed boring. I turn to David, “Hey man, what if we added some confetti to this photo op?” His reply seals the deal, “Hell yeah! Get on that!”

I run to our roadster, thank God the top was down, and rip out a few stacks. I start handing them out to everyone around us. The cameraman counts down. 3…2…1…Money is flying everywhere. I pat David on the back, “Good call buddy, plenty more where that came from!”

7:50 am The #07 911’s driver, Andy, is giving us Day 1 instructions. I’m not listening. It’s a chilly August morning and we are standing in a park overlooking the entirety of El Paso. It’s breathtaking. I have no idea where we are heading; hopefully Marcus can decipher the directions. Each days destinations are unknown on the Dustball Rally. We have to figure them out along the way.

I look over at Marcus, his map is out. It covers over half of our Hot Wheel sized rally car.

7:58 am The motorcycle police are already leading away. I squeeze in line behind the #96 Continental GT. The CB and radio are lighting up with chatter. Everyone on the rally is jumping in on our frequency. I start to worry that secondary channels will be used by the veterans in order to outsmart everyone else. I cycle through every channel, just in case I can hear something. I had been the one to suggest the group frequencies during the briefing. “I need to talk less” I say to myself. Marcus isn’t listening, as he his fully engrossed in the route and gimmicks for the day.

“Dude, I don’t know the answers ANY of this shit!” He exclaims.

8:00 am The #66 Fire Truck is getting pulled over. We had been warned by Dustball veterans that there would be a lot of police activity on the 2012 Rally. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at the thought of someone getting a ticket two minutes in.

8:02 am They get off with a warning.

8:05 am I tweeting “Our flight formation goes Aston, Lambo, Bentley, BMW, Aston.” We are feeling really freaking cool, and want everyone to know about it.

8:06 am We are driving up what might be a mountain, just outside of El Paso. I look to my right and can see for miles! Over the radio I hear David in the #26 Vantage, “DO YOU HEAR THE TWIN TURBO???”

We definitely hear it. Team GOP in the #51 Lamborghini Gallardo is flexing its throttle, begging to be shifted. He gets some space at a crest and…WRRRRRRRRIIIIRRR. It sounds magnificent.

8:10 am Marcus has our next 300 miles planned out. He thinks we’re skirting New Mexico in the Guadalupe Mountains then heading south to Marfa, Texas. He’s giddy as a schoolgirl about the possibility of seeing the Marfa Lights.

8:21 am I’m tweeting, “Excuse us as our expensive sports cars drive through good citizens.” These police are literally driving light to light and running pedestrians off the road. They’re kicking cars that don’t slow down fast enough - just like in a video game. It is unbelievable - like having six fullbacks on motorcycles everywhere you go.

8:25 am A red, non-rally, BMW 3 series tries to jump our caravan and nearly causes a Range Rover/Lamborghini/Bentley/BMW/Aston Martin pile up. “Maybe we should leave a little more space in between our bumpers.” I laugh.

8:40 am There is a red light ahead, I toss out some Monopoly Money and I joke, “In Dustball Rally WE don’t have to stop at these.”

BEEEEEEEEEEP!

Cars are honking at me like I just ran over a puppy. “Oh shit! We don’t have the police escort any more, do we?!”

“Ha, guess not!” Marcus deadpans. We toss out another stack. It seems appropriate.

9:15 am We are about tenth in line at a border checkpoint and I have had to piss since the parade around El Paso. The last half hour was something you dream about. We were running full throttle with magnificent automobiles. Accelerating up to a corner, trail braking, hitting an apex, then powering out. The energy was palatable. But now? Now I had to pee. Really, really bad.

“Will you take the wheel? I’m going to piss.” I ask.

“Dude. Horrible idea. They will arrest you.”

“No one ever argues with diarrhea.” I tried think of a better reply, but this seemed like it actually may work, so I decided to use it as I walk up to the Border Patrol.

“HEY RYAN! I spin around and see Tony in the #76 STI. “Ahhh, I thought you were bringing me some Monopoly Money. Damn! Oh, by the way, Andy just got on the CB. He says no one, absolutely no one, is to get out of their car at the check point.”

I promise to give him some fun dough at the next stop.

The Patrol yells out at me, “DO. YOU. HAVE. DRUGS?”

I am a mid 20’s white as can be male, wearing a pilots hat, and pilots sport coat. My mind races at the funny answers I could provide. My better judgment takes hold, I plead the shits, and they let me pass. Seriously though, I may have pissed myself.

9:30 am There’s about a dozen cars lined up in an impromptu car show, fifty feet from some guys getting arrested at the border checkpoint. I share handfuls of Monopoly Money and Mardi Gras beads with a few teams at the absurdity of the situation.

9:31 am I give Tony his allowance of Monopoly Money for the next 150 miles.

10:50 am Our range is 30 miles. We are in the middle of nowhere Texas. Literally. We haven’t seen an anything for about eighty miles. The Rally had just exited the Guadalupe Mountains. The road may have skirted into New Mexico. I honestly couldn’t tell you where we were. Cars were averaging 100 but everyone cut loose smartly and respectfully. When the roads got twisty each team let up a quarter mile so the guys in front of them could give it a run. No one gunned it when they saw oncoming traffic. Still, we made those mountains our personal Dustball Rally Roller Coaster.

There were some new cars running with us. Team Team March Hare in their black #30 Cadillac CTS-V, Team Flying Squirrel in their orange #77 Camaro SS, Team DLR in their crimson #14 Pontiac G8, Team Rojo Rapido in their red #45 Porsche 911 Carrera, Team Costa in their #97 Porsche 997 Turbo… In addition to our teammates in the #26 Vantage and our buddies in the #51 Lambo, #00 Aston, #76 STI, & #96 Bentley Bros.

Team SportsCarHunter sure to introduce everyone new to our Monopoly Money, one by one.

Crazily enough, the #66 Fire Truck is ahead of us leading a two team push with a black rally Dodge Charger.

“How the hell do those two cars get in front of everyone?” I ask.

“They have bigger balls than we do.” Marcus responds.

11:00 am The #77 Camaro SS is sputtering out of gas but we’re u-turning out of the strangest, middle of nowhere, gas station I have ever seen. There are four 87 octane pumps in the middle of a gravel lot. No sense to fill up with low grade when Marcus’ logbook says that there is a city within range. We follow the #00 Aston out.

We see the #66 Fire Truck running back to the strange pumps to fill up a jerry can for the stranded Charger. They’re out too.

11:05 am It’s us and Team W0T’s #00 Aston Martin Vantage Roadster making a speed run to a town called Pecos. We’re both low on fuel, but #00 is driving like he stole it. It’s fun keeping up, but I begin to question our straight six versus his eight cylinder on some of the crossover overtakes.

“We need to build up more momentum than he does.” I remark .

“Or just let him go?” Marcus suggests.

I’m nearly at that point myself, but this was a Dustball veteran, and we had the opportunity to earn some rally stripes. Our “Check Engine Soon” light just came on as well. I ignore the warning and keep the pressure on.

11:30 am We are in Pecos, Texas. It’s about the size of a thumbtack. I make a mental note to Google Map this place when I get home. I can’t do it now, it feels like winning the Powerball when I get two signal bars on my iPhone.

Us and the #00 Aston arealready filled up by the time the rest of the group arrives. I run inside and buy a candy bar and dried kiwi.

“I am so. Freaking. Hungry.” Laments Marcus when I get back to the car.

“Dried kiwi?” I offer.

He looks at me like I am on Bizzare Foods.

“Well, of all the places to try dried kiwi for the first time I think Pecos is a damn fine choice.

He drops a handful of Monopoly Money out the window.

11:40 am The #96 Bentley Bros break off to do some gimmicks with another group of cars. I’m conflicted. It’s going to be tough stay in a lead pack and answer gimmicks at the same time. We commit to answering as many as possible, but it’s hard to argue leaving such a fine group behind. We stick with the original group.

12:45 pm We are pinned in the lead pack of the snake. In front of us is the orange #77 Camaro SS and directly behind us is the silver #97 Porsche 997 Turbo Cabriolet. Somewhere behind the Porsche is the … Who knows, we lost them a half an hour ago when we entered these rolling hills.

The #77 Camaro SS has tires as wide as a Kardashian’s ass and the #97 997 Turbo requires acceleration in the corners to grip the road. Our #85 Z4 3.0si Roadster is like Rudy if he could ever get on the field.

This road is merciless. We can see just far enough ahead to accelerate after every apex and the #27 997 behind us is agile enough to draft us into every corner. I am in full bore sport mode. Marcus has not said a word in fifteen minutes. I put my palm in front of the air conditioning vent on every straight. I am drenched in sweat.

Accelerate. Turn. Tail brake. Full bore. Tail brake. Turn. Up Turn. Down. Turn. Full bore…This goes on for the better part of a half hour.

I think we’re booking it, but can’t be bothered with looking down at the speedometer.We are dead in the water if I take my eyes off what’s ahead. This is some of the most fantastic, balletic, driving I have ever accomplished.

The #85 Z4 didn’t deserve to be nestled in between those orange and silver beasts, but we were damn proud to be driving in a podium group. We are pushing our car and abilities to the absolute limit. “Marcus, make a note to buy a stickier compound tires if we ever did this again.” He taps the logbook and gives thumbs up.

1:45 pm “We have to be getting close to Marfa” I inquire to Marcus.

He takes out the logbook, and cues up the CB. “We’re supposed to be going to Marfa, but that’s definitely nowhere close.” SportsCarHunter’s #26 Vantage is also losing it’s brakes and needs fluid. I pull into a gas station and asses the situation. We’re lost but I’m strangely happy at this. Our handicapped fuel capacity is being negated by each wrong turn. It seems like we are filling up every 100 miles.

Half the pack decides to backtrack and follow the predetermined route, while we stick with what’s left of our DFW clan and pick the most direct path towards our destination.

2:45 pm We’re driving through the strangest topography I have ever seen. It’s like we are on Mars. We are gaining elevation, but the mountains around us are crumbling. We are in a desert, but there’s sparse vegetation. We are at the edge of Big Bend National Park, and all the roads are freshly paved.

In our pack is the #96 Bentley Bros, #00 Aston, #41 335i, #44 Mustang GT, #76 STI, #14 G8, plus in the #26 Vantage / #85 Z4.

It’s a fun group. We are all enjoying the strange, dry, and desolate scenery on roads that are opening up. There are long straits, maybe close to a mile at a time, where we egg each other on, but we can’t see too far to surpass our rally average of 110. We are gaining elevation, as posted signs are telling us of the increasing height of each mountaintop.

2:55 pm We are fourth in the pack, dead middle, when I edge the wheel left and crest a bend. I turn off the radio.

“UHHHHH” is muttered by someone over the CB.

“BLASTOFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!!” another team slowly replies, absolutely awestruck.

We are looking down at a valley with three highway stretches at least five miles long per. Back to back to back. There are no other cars as far as the eye can see for 20 miles.

There is dead silence aside from seven thunderous engines instinctively flooring it.

Never in my life have I experienced a moment like this. Each team staggers into a lane. Right, left, right, left, right, left, right. The faster cars are already up front so no worries there.

2:56 pm I am rattled by the past two miles and pull back. My hands are shaking.

We ease around the first corner. I waste a few moments collecting myself then switch to the left lane after triple checking for no oncoming traffic. 90. 95. 100.

Marcus sits up. He knows what’s about to happen. He begins to coach with one eye on the road, the other on the GPS for speed.

“105”, we are fast approaching the #26 Vantage.

“110. 115. 120. 125.”

We fly past both Aston Martin Vantage Roadsters, back to back.

“130. 135.”

The second turn is about a mile out and the #44 Mustang GT is about to brake.

“Ease off.” Marcus calmly instructs. “Now edge on the brake…”

The Z4 gets down to the mid 70’s for the turn and takes its place on the far right side. We managed 139 before running out of road.

“139? Why not 140? 140 just rolls off your tongue.” I remark.

“We hit 140. I saw the speedo…we had 145+ on that.” Marcus encouraged.

BMW’s are known for their generous readings at speed. Did we make it? I don’t know. The truth lies somewhere between 139 and overzealous German engineering.

3:02 pm We just covered 20 miles in what seems like three minutes, given our terrain and speed. It’s plain, flat, and in the distance there’s always a decaying mountain.

3:05 pm There’s a twisty up and over a crest ahead, it looks promising.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! The detector is going batshit insane. Our entire group was just hit with a Ka Band. There’s a police Suburban passing us in the opposite direction.

I ask, “Did we slow down enough?”

No one can answer for sure over the CB, but the sheriff is pulling a u-turn behind the #76 STI. He’s tailing him.

3:07 pm The sheriff is passing us up now. He’s looking for the lead car, which was Team W0T in the #00 Aston. Yep, he’s pulling him over.

3:09 pm The CB crackles, “YOU BOYS LIKE MEX-EEEE-COOOO?!” It’s the #00 Aston. We’re laughing, relieved that the whole caravan wasn’t pegged at once.

3:15 pm We pull in to a general store. It looks like it’s out of a western. The door to the store says “OUT TO TOWN. BE BACK AT 3:30.”

“Where the HELL is town?” a Bentley Bro asks.

We discuss our options. Continue on the final 100 miles to our anticipated destination in Presidio, TX, or wait for the guys who were pulled over? Someone in the group emphasizes, “They drive fast enough to keep up.”

An elderly lady had just walked outside from the general store as we pull away. “Hahaha! She just lost her only sale of the month!” the CB remarks.

4:00 pm The #44 Mustang GT and #76 STI have pulled away from the rest of the pack. Marcus points out, “We have NO idea where we are going. Those guys seem to at least have a clue. We NEED to catch up with them.” I look ahead and behind us. The rest of the group #96 Bentley Bros,#26 Vantage, and #14 G8. None of us have any idea where to go. I hit the accelerator hard. We had been laying low for 15 minutes. Time to book it.

4:15 pm “Look, over the next turn, it’s the Mustang!” Marcus shouts. We were close to catching up, maybe another mile or so and we’d be with them. Around the next turn, out of nowhere, is a Dustball Rally flag. I park in the lot next to the organizers #07 911, our DFW friends in the #43 Corvette and #44 335i had already been there, even beating the sprinting #44 Mustang GT and #76 STI.

4:16 pm I try tweeting out, “Day 1, Fifth Place” but I have no service. Later on I would be thankful that the message never got out. We had just driven all day with each team respectfully allowing space between cars, signaling at every opportunity, mostly passing when the dotted lines allowed, while always stopping as a group any time there was an issue. This wasn’t a race at all. Yes, we all went fast, but no…this was Dustball Rallying.

4:22 pm We are at Lajitas Resort. This place is incredibly nice. I consider taking a swim in the huge fountain outside everyone’s rooms. “Later” I say to myself.

I was cleaning the car out, dumping out beads and koozies on a bench in front of our room, and then go to meet up with the guys at the bar.

Blake, of the #00 Aston ticket fame, laughs, “How in the hell this place stays profitable is beyond me.” I was thinking the exact same thing.

I’d like to stay in the Cantina longer, but there’s a top speed run sanctioned by the area police department at 4:30 and I already cleared the #85 Z4 completely out aside from a lone GPS.

5:27 pm I find out that the route we took was indeed the wrong way. The correct trip would have taken us through Marfa, down to Presidiio, and over an apparently incredible river road to Lajitas. The top speed run would be back where “Blastoff” occurred. I had tasted 139 before having to pull back and wanted to slay the unicorn. We were going back.

David and James in the #26 Vantage couldn’t go. Brake fluid was spilling into their entire wheel well. An issue like this could sideline them for the entire trip. There was no Aston Martin dealership for hundreds of miles, but they decide to take it to the nearest town, Terlingua, hoping that a garage is open.

5:05 pm The state trooper who pulled over the #00 Aston is speaking to us, “Sixteen miles. You’ll end at Trashcan Hill. When you see the police lights flashing, slow down.”

Marcus and I are wearing our leather racing caps and driving goggles. We are doing this like a real roadster should. The #43 Corvette thinks we are crazy for wanting to do a top speed with the top down. I argue that we hit 139 earlier with it up and it was time for a change. We are the only convertible in the group.

There are a handful of cars with us. There’s the red Range Rover Sport filming, then the orange #77 Camaro, Team Jesus Christ in the blue #32 VW Golf R32, the black #41 335i, us in the black #85 Z4, the silver #43 Corvette, and the black #96 Bentley Bros.

5:21 pm The #44 335i takes off. We’re next. The sheriff walks up to us, “Don’t you boys make my highway messy!” he jokes.

“You do know he’s being dead serious. He doesn’t want to pick up our body parts all over the desert.” Marcus deadpans.

I look over to Andy as he waves the Dustball Flag. The tires are scrubbing the road. The 3.0 lets out a war cry. We are accelerating.

In a flash we cover the first straight, I carry as much speed into the corner as I possibly can, trying my best to imagine little green, yellow, and red Forza triangles on the road. I hit the apex and slide back into the right lane. I want to drive in the center but Marcus constantly reminds me, “Over, right. Over, right.”

He’s letting me attack it. I imagine he’s scared shitless as a passenger doing 120+ without a roof.

We’re in the second straight, this is where we hit our top speed two hours earlier. I‘m giving it everything the car has, but we’ve just gone two straight miles at 139.

“Second corner, ease…brake…brake…BRAKE…go go GO!” I hear in true navigator grandiose.

I want to give it more but I ease up on the final straight. We weren’t going to hit 140. The car had been run to the absolute limit today, and a combination of the top down, the uphill elevation, and the “Check Engine Soon” light was too much for us to gain that extra MPH.

5:28 pm The other teams are showing off their high speeds when we pull in after 16 miles of absolute insanity. 170 for the #41 335I? #43 Corvette got 175? #96 Bentley Bros north of 180?!

5:40 pm I ask Marcus to take the wheel for the first time. I need to ride shotgun for the next 40 miles back to the resort, plus he needs to say he drove.

5:54 pm We are poking along at 85. He’s never driven the Z4 and we’re spending time getting him acclimated to the cars tendencies. All of a sudden there is a screeching howl as a blue spark spits past us.

“What in the HELL was that?” I shout out.

“Team Shchlitzilassshits” Marcus replies.

Team Siebzehn in the #17 Vette Z06 had just passed us like we were standing still. We were going 85.

6:02 pm The Z06 is parked on the right researching a gimmick. One of them runs to the roadside and taps his watch as we coast by – mocking the time discrepancies between our two cars. I am laughing out loud, “Assholes!” but I can see myself doing the same thing.

6:30 pm Marcus has not eaten all day and taps out. I drop him off to continue down the river road we missed earlier in the day.

The road literally snakes alongside a river that signifies the border between the United States and Mexico. Two miles in and I park to take a few photographs. I am in awe.

6:40 pm I am winding along these twisties with a grin so big that my face is hurting. Up, over, right, down, up, left, straight, dip, dip, down, left. I’ve never been on this pavement and I’m edging the line between tentative and audacious. I work my way to a mountaintop and stop at the peak.

A four-person team in a Scion drives by with their windows down. “Stay another half hour and watch the sunset!” He shouts.

6:52 pm Down, right, left, dip, down, up, left, left, up, bridge, right, up, dip.

6:57 pm I am taking more photographs. “There needs to be a Top Gear episode on these roads. Transfagarasan Highway be damned.”

7:20 pm There’s a dead straight ahead of me…maybe a mile. I reckon that I’m a dozen miles from the resort. The road graciously dips three times ahead. I feel no need to speed through it.

“It doesn’t get any better than this,” I tell myself “You don’t need to go any further. Leave the rest of the road ahead.”

For the first time in a long, long while, I am content with everything. I know this is going to be one of the moments in my life that I never forget. I say a prayer, write out a note, and take it all in.

I’m getting choked up and decide to walk to the edge of the desert. The car is still running but I don’t even realize it. My mind is on another level. I return to the road and sit on the double yellow line.

7:35 pm The sun sets.

7:40 pm Up, left, dip, right, down, right, right, left, up, dip, up. The moon is rising and I am running away from the daylight. I spot a deer ahead and take the last few miles of the river road easy as I return to the resort.

8:15 pm I’m eating dinner as David, James, and Tony talk cars. I’m still in another place but the first real food of the day tastes amazing but it’s more Mexican. David senses my thoughts, “Dude. No. More. Mexican.” I nod my head in agreement.

10:20 pm The power in Brewster County is on a rolling blackout. The only place in the resort that has a/c is the cantina. It’s packed. Our Team SportsCarHunter koozies are everywhere. David and James are getting hammered talking with the other DFW teams. “Aston butt-love” Marcus jokes.

10:40 pm The #14 G8 newlywed’s buy #76 STI Tony a shot called Cruz Azul, should be called death in a glass. Didn’t even have all the ingredients. Like car, like driver. Tony only does sake bombs.

11:45 pm I’m placing Monopoly Money on every single windshield with a Chance or Community Chest card. I make sure to place the “You Have Won Second Prize in a Beauty Contest” on all the prettiest cars and put “Get Out of Jail Free” cards on everyone who drove super aggressively. Someone has had a similar idea and a third of the cars have fake tickets underneath their wipers. At least I’m not alone.

12:25 am It seems like every single rally team is out on the patio, drinking beer and cracking jokes. There is no power anywhere in the county and the rooms are hotter than hell. This complication, in most circles, would raise tempers across the board. That’s not happening tonight. Dustballers are bonding. Everyone is having the time of their lives.

12:40 am Team #17 in the Vette Z06, Team Siebzehn, is speaking in full German accents and are swimming in the excessively large fountains outside our rooms. Speaking German, wearing Speedos. “Dammit, they beat me to it again, and found a way to make it more European!”

2:05 am We are passed out, cellphones dead, no air conditioning, and no power. Day 1 of the 2012 Dustball Rally was complete.

Thank you for reading “BLASTOFF! The 2012 Dustball Rally Speeds Past Day 1”

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-Sports Car Hunter Ry

Over the next few weeks, we are going to take you from the genesis of the endurance road trip to the modern international road rally. Each day we will share a bite sized history lesson about the development of this motorsport. We hope that you’ll join us for this absolutely fascinating ride.

Our last #RallyPulse post discussed the 2000 Gumball 3000, which included 80+ vehicles boarding massive cargo planes, $30,000 fines, and a stolen Lamborghini Diablo. These antics, among many untold, led to the growth in Gumball notoriety.

The 3rd route took entrants from London to Berlin, Malbork, Vilnius, St. Petersburg, Helsinki, Stockholm, Copenhagen, and back to London again. 106 cars participated.

In 2000, Maximillion Cooper – founder of the Gumball 3000- drove a Bentley Arnage 1WO until the car had to be replaced mid-rally.  Hoping to avoid bespoke breakdowns in 2001, he chose an original Shelby Cobra to take for the ride. The Cobra was sure to go up against some traditionally fierce Ferrari competition  in addition to F1 World champion Damon Hill driving a Lamborghini; comedian Vic Reeves in a Mercedes-AMG; entrepreneurs Justin Etzin and Lord Edward Spencer Churchill in a Police Range Rover, and the oldest car ever (still today!) in a Gumball 3000 was driven Lord Montagu of Beaulieu in a 1929 Blower Bentley.

Arguably the most influential team of the rally was the 1989 Jaguar XJ6 car with famous Jackass hosts Johnny Knoxville, Steve-O, and Chris Pontius. The trio went on the rally to record a “Gumball 3000 Jackass” for MTV. The special earned MTV their highest ratings for the year. Thankfully it can now be watched in high-quality full length streaming format on Amazon.com!

The show followed around each character as they Gumballed to excess. As you can imagine, this generated tremendous publicity for the rally.

2001 represented a rally in which the drivers began to grow significant followings. This Gumball began what some refer to as the “Golden Age of Gumball”. A time when drivers were hell bent on coming in first, couldn’t care less about the authorities, and redlined for sole the purpose of beating fellow Gumballers to the checkpoint.

Prior to his global notoriety, Kim Dotcom, or Kim Schmitz as he was known back then, finished first in his Mercedes Brabus SV12 Megacar. This would be the first of Kimble’s many Gumball escapades, of which we will detail at length in a future post. In the 2001 rally his friends crashed his E50 AMG service car and totaled a second just before a checkpoint. To add to Kimble’s excess, it was reported that when he destroyed his Brabus wheel, he had his Citation Jet fly him a replacement from Munich to England. Why would he go to this great expense? The answer is simple, really. The wheel needed replacing because his back-up AMG wheel looked unaesthetic! He was a driver hell bent on making it a race; ask the Swedish Saab 9-5 Aero he evaded and the Ferrari that was pulled over in his place.

MTV was not the only channel along for the ride. The event was also covered by terrestrial British television for the first time in 2001, with BBC 1 broadcasting Ruby Wax’s regular updates of the rally.

The 2001 Gumball 3000 went viral and we are all able to enjoy these stories today thanks to the personalities that participated over a decade ago.

Next at #RallyPulse: the Gumball 3000 leaves Europe for the first time and goes from sea to shining sea!

Learn More:

• Wikipedia – 2001 Gumball 3000: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gumball_3000#2001
• Gumball3000.com – 2001: http://www.gumball3000.com/history/2001
• YouTube – Gumball 2001 1/3: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2e7fpF7MLpk&feature=channel&list=UL
• Wired – Kim Dotcom: http://www.wired.com/threatlevel/2012/01/kim-dotcom/
• PeachParts.com - Crazy Billioaire inner of Euro Cannonball, Gumball 3000 wins with a Brabus S 5,8:http://www.peachparts.com/shopforum/performance-paddock/20348-crazy-billioaire-inner-euro-cannonball-gumball-3000-wins-brabus-s-5-8-a.html
• Spotte.rs – Kimble.org http://spotte.rs/myphotos.php?n=Kimble.org
• Gumball3000.com – Jackass Blog: http://www.gumball3000.com/blog/jackass
• Ruby Wax 2001 Gumball 3000: http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-670646680456039379

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Over the next few weeks, we are going to take you from the genesis of the endurance road trip to the modern international road rally. Each day we will share a bite sized history lesson about the development of this motorsport. We hope that you’ll join us for this absolutely fascinating ride.

Our last post discussed the story behind Maximillion Cooper’s failed bid for an F1 Gumball team and the 3,000 mile party that resulted. Today we are going to dive deeper into the early rallies, specifically the 2000 Gumball 3000. Given that the Gumball 3000 was never anticipated to be an annual event, the information is spotty at best. Piecing the stories behind these rallies is a difficult task. Much like the Cannonball Baker Sea-To-Shining-Sea Memorial Trophy Dash and U.S. Express, it would take a few years for the cameras to warm up. Still, through diligent forum scouring and decade-old websites, it was clear that the personality of the Gumball had been forged by the second rally.

In 2000’s rally, Gumball founder, Maximillion Cooper drove Bentley Arnage 1WO. This was one of 86 cars and three motorbikes to take part. Nearly every luxury car maker was represented in this race, with a proper allotment of Aston’s, Bentley’s, and Jaguar’s driven by Britain’s social elite. The cars made such a commotion at the starting line that the traffic warden began writing tickets before the cars even took off!

Much like the 1999 rally, the second Gumball was as much about style as it was about driving. In an interview with The Times in 2000, Cooper went on record as saying, “Gumball is about the mix of people we get — you know, rock stars, racing drivers, models — it’s about the rock ‘n’ roll attitude.”

The Gumball 3000 commenced in May at Marble Arch in Hyde Park, London. After waving the starting flag, the cars roared an hour north up the M1 to Stansted Airport where they met up with, and were loaded on, two massive Russian cargo planes. Once the Lamborghini’s were sorted out from barely squeezing inside the plane, the rest of the Porsche’s, Ferrari 360, 355, F40 and 550s, three Ducati’s, the planes took off and went on to carry each team to a private Spanish Airport. The teams took a separate chartered 737 plane and Gumballers proceeded to skateboard down the aisle throughout the flight.

This freight-transport of rally cars was the first of its kind and would be copied by future rallies for years to come. It was an unprecedented move. The rally would still cover 3000 road miles, just not consecutively. The idea opened the doors for global rallies spanning continents. A route was no longer confined by physical barriers.

Once landing in Spain, the planes took three hours to drop their cargo off. Two Ferrari teams found this process quite boring and decided to have an impromptu drag race along the airport runway! Bilbao quickly learned the Gumball way.

Numerous cars had already bitten the dust before leaving for Cannes. A 70’s Dodge Challenger, A Ferrari F40, firing on only 4 cylinders, but still good for 140mph,  a 3200GT Maserati, a 95’ Corvette, and a 1960 E-type Jag were all left in the Guggenheim car park. The Cannes festival was filled with parties on and off land. When the rally woke up the next morning they were one Lamborghini Diablo short! Unfortunately for one team, thieves had stolen it in the night. Nevertheless, the Gumball raged on.

Milan was next, followed by Hotel Bühlerhöhe Castle near Baden-Baden, where it was announced that two teams had their cars taken by the German police and imposed record fines on each of $30,000 for doing over 200mph through heavy traffic and 50mph zones. The party continued, and one man was said to have run up a bill of over $15,000 in four hours.

The rally then made a stop in Hamburg, Germany day before gunning it back to eastern England to tour the Lotus factory in Norfolk. The 2000 Gumball once again ended in London, this time at the St.Martins Lane Hotel. Prizes were awarded to all in the shape of a bust of Burt Reynolds - the original Cannonballer.

Our next post will discuss the 2001 rally, and the cult following that turned “The Gumball” into a spectacle worth watching.

Learn More:

• Gumball3000.com – 2000: http://www.gumball3000.com/history/2000
• Gumball-3000.com  - 2000: http://www.gumball-3000.com/category/gumball-3000/gumball-2000/
• GTSpirit.com: Gumball History: http://www.gtspirit.com/gumball-rally-history/
• Wikipedia – 2000 Gumball 3000: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gumball_3000#2000
• Gumball 3000 - http://www.theautochannel.com/vehicles/new/reviews/motorcycles/2001/nfrankl_gumball_3000.html

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Over the next few weeks, we are going to take you from the genesis of the endurance road trip to the modern international road rally. Each day we will share a bite sized history lesson about the development of this motorsport. We hope that you’ll join us for this absolutely fascinating ride.

Yesterday we revealed the 1980’s U.S. Express – and the Ferrari that crossed the USA in 32 hours 7 minutes. The record had been set and the media, not to mention police, were eating it up. While a few new rallies occurred afterwards, the peak had seemingly passed. After 15 years of silent engines, a charismatic 26-year-old Englishman took up the rally reigns.

Maximillion Cooper, born in 1972, grew up in an artistic and musical household. At 18 he learned to race and quickly worked his way up from Formula Ford into a McLaren GT car. In short order he became involved with action-sports, music, academia, and fashion. By his mid-20’s he knew a broad range of eclectic and influential people, and wanted to leverage that in to something he was passionate about: the purchase of a racing team.

Cooper, like most 25-year-olds, was broke but inspirational and at 25, nearly pulled off a $100 million deal for a Formula 1 team. $100,000,000. F1 entails racing two cars about 17 races a year, all over the world and is the highest class of single seater auto racing sanctioned by the FIA. Only the best of the best with the most financial backing can afford to participate. You would have had Team McLaren, Team Mercedes, Team BMW, Team Ferrari…and Team Gumball. Cooper relished in the fact that Gumball would have been extreme underdogs and outsiders in every way.

He leveraged his “Gumball” Formula 1 team to the final negotiating stages. His concept of creating the most rock ‘n’ roll racing team was all but complete when, at the last second, Lucky Strike cigarettes swooped in and made a better offer. Legends are made from audacity like that.

While the deal fizzled, Cooper realized his strength in bringing together well-connected friends and showing them a great time. In his one bedroom Notting Hill flat, with no computer and one telephone, he devised a 3,000 mile route all over Europe.

The first Gumball 3000 Rally occurred in April 1999. 55 cars, most with no more than two people to a car, had no idea what they were in for. The entrance fee was a minimal “…pound a mile.” 110 people participated.

Getting all of the personalities together in one room was challenging. Cooper managed to entice most participants by offering “party after party” when in reality it was more like party, drive, drive, get lost, drive, and break down. Even his E-Type Jaguar suffered such a delay! This was all deemed acceptable, as there were no prizes for being fastest or official timekeeping of any sort. Organizers emphasized that it was to be a road trip adventure and not a race.

The Gumball 3000 drew inspiration from movies such as Two-Lane Blacktop, Vanishing Point, Bullitt, and Le Mans. All true driving films putting man and machine on an equal platform. The term “Gumball” is actually traced back to 80’s pop culture and Andy Warhol’s suggestion that the decades culture was chewed up then spit right back out. Erwin “Cannonball” Baker, The Cannonball Baker Sea-To-Shining-Sea Memorial Trophy Dash, and the U.S. Express all served as the building blocks for Gumball 3000 success.

The 1999 rally began in London, went on to Paris, stopped at Chateau d’Esclimont, lapped the Le Mans race circuit, visited the Ferrari Museum at Mas du Clos, stopped by the Monaco Grand Prix, and reached its furthest point in Rimini, Italy. The rally then spun around and sprinted to the Modena Ferrari Factory, Ambras Palace in Austria, lapped the Hockenheim Grand Prix circuit in Germany, and crossed the finish line on Park Lane in London. 3000 miles were accomplished in only six days.

It was a spectacle in all sense of the word; from the kick-off party at the Bluebird Club attended by London’s A-list, to the original British police car, borrowed from the British TV show The Bill, that was driven on the rally. Whimsical cars and super cars were piloted by friends from all walks of life.

The 1999 Gumball 3000 set a new standard of rally excellence. Thanks to these men and women bake dust rained throughout Europe for an entire week.

The rally opened the door for anyone who loves fast cars to see them close-up and personal. It gave us all the opportunity to experience the sights and sounds of some of the best examples of motoring design and engineering from around the world. The 1999 Gumball 3000 embodied the flair and panache of a rally driver’s pioneering spirit.

Tomorrow, we will discuss how the Gumball 3000 was never meant to be an annual event, and how the 2000 Gumball 3000 shattered those assumptions.

Learn More:

• Wikipedia - Maximillion Cooper: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maximillion_Cooper
• Wikipedia - 1999 Gumball 3000 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gumball_3000#1999
• Gumball3000.com 1999: http://www.gumball3000.com/history/1999
• About Gumball 3000: http://www.gumball3000.com/info/about
• Frank 151 Chapter 40 Gumball 3000: http://www.frank151.com/book/chapter_40_gumball_3000
• Two Lane Blacktop: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000WC39FO?ie=UTF8&tag=maseffdea-20&linkCode=shr&camp=213733&creative=393185&creativeASIN=B000WC39FO&qid=1336768405&ref_=sr_1_1&sr=8-1
• Vanishing Point: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00013RC8O?ie=UTF8&tag=maseffdea-20&linkCode=shr&camp=213733&creative=393185&creativeASIN=B00013RC8O&qid=1336768463&ref_=sr_1_1&s=movies-tv&sr=1-1
• Bullitt: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00407PNY2?ie=UTF8&tag=maseffdea-20&linkCode=shr&camp=213733&creative=393177&creativeASIN=B00407PNY2&qid=1336768537&ref_=sr_1_2&s=movies-tv&sr=1-2
• Le Mans: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B004R6JG7Q?ie=UTF8&tag=maseffdea-20&linkCode=shr&camp=213733&creative=393185&creativeASIN=B004R6JG7Q&qid=1336768575&ref_=sr_1_2&s=movies-tv&sr=1-2

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• Join the #RallyPulse
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Over the next few weeks, we are going to take you from the genesis of the endurance road trip to the modern international road rally. Each day we will share a bite sized history lesson about the development of this motorsport. We hope that you’ll join us for this absolutely fascinating ride.

Yesterday we discussed the 1970’s The Cannonball Baker Sea-To-Shining-Sea Memorial Trophy Dash. These five races grew with such immense popularity that organizer, Brock Yates, was obligated to shut it down after the fifth run in 1979 - a completely understandable action at the time. The races had grown too dangerous and the liability was beyond reason. Had the line really been crossed? Was the limit reached? Read on to learn what The U.S. Express thought about such limits.

A 2874 mile race kept in hushed circles for nearly thirty years - The U.S. Express was an invitation-only, underground, racing event. Prospective racing teams had to fill out an application, submit an entry fee, and then hope to hear back via telegram if they were accepted.

After the final Cannonball in 1979, Rick Doherty, a veteran of the ‘79 and ‘75 races, brought together the most “extreme baddasses” of the previous races (in addition to a few lucky readers browsing the classifieds) and let them loose on America’s highways.

The first U.S. Express ended at the beach in Santa Monica, a route slightly longer than Cannonball. Doherty won the first U.S. Express with co-driver and famous game designer, Will Wright (SimCity, The Sims, etc) at the wheel of a Mazda RX-7. Their time was 33 hours, 9 minutes.

The audacity of the drivers was admirable and raised the bar for rallies after it. Competition was fierce. Regular drivers were doing a football field every second and a half. Racing was not these participants 9-5 job. They weren’t Burt Reynolds millionaires. To wreck, injure, or fall under police pursuit would cause serious issues.

Understanding the gravity of the event, teams went to great lengths to gain an edge. Most cars had front and rear radar, multiple scanners, kill switches for lights, homemade radar jammers, 50-60 gallon fuel cells, and some even attempted early night vision! In a race like this, preparation typically held the key to success.

The ‘81 race started in Long Island, New York and finished in Emeryville, California. The winning team consisted of David Morse and Steve Clausman driving Morse’s gray Porsche 928. The Porsche won in part due to an early snowfall closing the Donner Pass for several hours to vehicles without chains. The Porsche wisely carried special plastic chains and was able to proceed while others had to wait for the pass to open. The team would go on to win the 1982 race as well.

Despite the increased length, the fastest time recorded was 32 hours 7 minutes, in the 1983 race, 44 minutes faster than the fastest Cannonball, and stood as the “official” cross-country record until it was broken in 2006 (we will discuss that at a later date). Yes, Erwin “Cannonball” Baker’s transcontinental road record was shattered.

Doug Turner and David Diem drove a Ferrari 308 across the country in 32:07. A truly remarkable feat, even today, These 32-hour outlaws had become the fastest humans ever to cross the continent.

When legendary driver, Bobby Unser, was interviewed about the possibility of a transcontinental United States run, he gasped, “To go from New York to California in 32 hours? It’s unbelievable!”

Nothing came after the ’83 run. Once the record was broken and got in the news, many of the drivers were freaked out about press. Doherty thought someone else would pick up the reins in ’84. No one did. A few smaller copycats attempted such as the “Four-ball” and another, but transcontinental rallying essentially died (we will also cover these later).

A documentary, 32 hours 7 minutes, has been in post-production for a number of years. Director, Cory Welles, has continued to release snippets of footage, clippings, and news about the U.S. Express. The film, while plagued by delays, is set to release very, very soon.

In the trailer for the film a quote really sticks out,

“Everyone knows there are dotted lines on the road. At about 130 they’re solid.”

This solid line exemplifies what these drivers were willing to do in the name of competition. The U.S. Express saw where the limit was, shifted up, and bravely sped past.

Tomorrow, we will discuss the Maximillion Cooper’s audacious road trip. Yes, you guessed right, we will be discussing the 1999 Gumball 3000. The first of them all!

Learn More:

• Wikipedia - U.S. Express: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cannonball_Baker_Sea-To-Shining-Sea_Memorial_Trophy_Dash#US_Expresshttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cannonball_Baker_Sea-To-Shining-Sea_Memorial_Trophy_Dash#US_Express
• 32hours7minutes.com - http://www.32hours7minutes.com/
• YouTube - 32 Hours 7 Minutes: http://www.youtube.com/user/32Hours7Minutes?feature=watch
• Facebook - 32 Hours 7 Minutes: https://www.facebook.com/32hours7minutes
• The Driver: My Dangerous Pursuit of Speed and Truth in the Outlaw Racing World by Alexander Roy http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0061374997?ie=UTF8&tag=maseffdea-20&linkCode=shr&camp=213733&creative=393185&creativeASIN=0061374997&qid=1336679454&ref_=sr_1_1&sr=8-1

• Connect with SportsCarHunter.com:
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Over the next few weeks, we are going to take you from the genesis of the endurance road trip to the modern international road rally. Each day we will share a bite sized history lesson about the development of this motorsport. We hope that you’ll join us for this absolutely fascinating ride.

Yesterday we discussed the Erwin “Cannonball” Baker and his influence on long-distance driving events. Today, we are switching lanes into the 1970’s with The Cannonball Baker Sea-To-Shining-Sea Memorial Trophy Dash. Real automotive enthusiasts have had a discussion about this legendary race at least once. We hope you will have another after reading today.

To your possible shock, we are not speaking of The Gumball Rally, The Cannonball Run, or The Cannonball Run 2 films! We are talking about the actual events that inspired these films. This article is a small portion of a much bigger story. We highly suggest checking out Brock Yates’ 2003 book about these events: “Cannonball!: World’s Greatest Outlaw Road Race”. The book belongs in every automotive enthusiast’s library. The stories shared by the drivers of these events are unmatched and provide a window to a time not so long ago. (Seriously, check it out.) Continue on with us now, you need to hear the overview first!

This rally itself was an unofficial, i.e. outlaw, automobile race run five times in the ’70s from New York City and Darien, CT, on the Atlantic coast, to Redondo Beach, a Los Angeles, CA suburb on the Pacific coast. Conceived by Car and Driver Magazine editors Brock Yates and Steve Smith in 1971, the dash was intended to be a celebration of the U.S. Interstate Highway and a protest against the nationwide reduction to 55 mph speed limits. Yates hoped to prove that well trained drivers could safely navigate the American highways at speeds in excess of the posted limits.

The race was run a total of five times, on May 3, 1971; November 15, 1971; November 13, 1972; April 23, 1975; and April 1, 1979.

‘

The only stated rules were the start at Red Ball Garage on East 31st Street in New York City, (later a venue in Darien, CT), and the finish line at Portofino Inn in Redondo Beach, CA. Nothing was specified as to the route, type of vehicle, or maximum speed permitted. Many teams did not make the finish, thanks in part to police, vehicle failure, or serious complications. The races gained notoriety in 1975 when Time magazine covered the event. Even with the heightened press, public reception remained surprisingly positive, thanks in part to the safety record of the participating cars.

Many creative teams tried different strategies, attempting to perfect the speed vs. stealth balance. Top teams aimed to finish the ride between 35 and 40 hours. The automobiles themselves were typically high performance, modified, and/or prepared for stealth. Extra gas tanks were common and early radar detectors were used. A fully stocked ambulance (with injured lookalikes) was even in on the action! The drivers took this trip very seriously.

The fastest record for official Cannonballs is 32 hours and 51 minutes (about 87 mph), set in the final run by Dave Heinz and Dave Yarborough in a Jaguar XJS in April 1979.

The next time you watch the Cannonball Run, you may find yourself thinking that the actors had more fun making this movie than you are having watching it. This is because many of the antics in the film(s) were based off of real stories. Check out the video below from a roundtable discussion between the actors and actual drivers:

Brock Yates, in his 2003 book, stated that such a run was impossible on today’s roads. Police enforcement had improved, roads had become more trafficked, and the publicity had grown to be overwhelming. The difficulty in accomplishing such a feat - in his eyes - could never be matched.

Tomorrow, we will discuss the 1980’s U.S. Express - the evolution of the underground cross-country dash. Check out the complete historical entrant list for the The Cannonball Baker Sea-To-Shining-Sea Memorial Trophy Dash below:

+ indicates winners
* indicates overall record


Last name    First name Run Time Place Vehicle                   Year

Adamwitz     Tony       02  36:47 002  Chevrolet Van             1971
Adelbert     Harvey     05  36:19 009  Mercedes-Benz 300D        1979
Alden        Al         05  32:59 002  Mercedes-Benz 450 SEL 6.9 1979
Allen        Gerald     05  36:20 010  Excalibur                 1979
Ammerman     Craig      04  45:36 017  Travco Motorhome          1975
Arentz       Gary       05  39:10 019  Jaguar XJS                1979
Armstrong    Keith      05  39:20 020  Chervrolet El Camino      1979
Armstrong    Ted        05  39:20 020  Chevrolet El Camino       1979
Arutunoff    Anatoly    04  49:32 018  Bristol 410               1975
                        05  40:33 024  Volvo 242 GT              1979
Atwell       Jim        04  38:56 007  Porsche Carrera           1975
                        05  42:28 029  Porsche Carrera           1975
Baker        Clyde      03  41:15 013  American Hornet           1972
Baker        Terry      05  35:58 007  Ferrari 308 GTS           1979
Behr         Steve      02  39:03 006  Dodge Van                 1971
                       +03  37:16 001  Cadillac Coupe De Ville   1972
                        04  38:03 003  Dodge Challenger          1975
                        05  42:27 028  Porsche 928               1979
Bell         Roger      05  58:04 039  Rolls Royce Silver Wraith 1979
Bernius      Terry      05  44:13 032  Lotus Esprit              1979
Blue         Doug       03  49:04 025  Chevrolet Monte Carlo     1972
Brennan      Peter      05  00:00 045  Pontiac Firebird Trans Am 1979
Brio         Roman     +03  37:16 001  Cadillac Coupe De Ville   1972
Brock        Pete       03  37:33 003  Mercedes-Benz 280 SEL     1972
Brodrick     Bill       02  57:25 007  Travco Motorhome          1971
                        03  44:42 019  Travco Motorhome          1972
                        04  45:36 017  Travco Motorhome          1975
Brown        Bob        03  37:26 002  Dodge Challenger          1972
Brownell     Dave       05  61:51 040  Ford Panel Truck          1979
Browning     Bob        05  40:33 024  Volvo 242 GT              1979
Bruerton     Ed         02  37:48 005  American AMX              1971
                        03  39:42 008  American AMX              1972
Bruerton     Tom        02  37:48 005  American AMX              1971
                        03  39:42 008  American AMX              1972
Buffum       John       04  40:19 009  Porsche Carrera           1975
Buffum       Vicki      04  40:19 009  Porsche Carrera           1975
Cady         Jack       03  43:02 016  Ford Van                  1972
Campbell     Bill       05  41:00 026  Ford Thunderbird          1979
Canfield     Bill      +03  37:16 001  Cadillac Coupe De Ville   1972
Cannata      Richard    04  44:23 016  Studebaker                1975
Carey        Bob        02  57:25 007  Travco Motorhome          1971
Carlson      Tim        04  40:37 011  Ford Van                  1975
Catalano     Christine  05  35:17 006  Mazda RX-7                1979
Chapin       Kim        02  39:03 006  Dodge Van                 1971
Cline        Rick      +04  35:53 001  Ferrari Dino 246 GTS      1975
Cooper       Bill       05  38:52 018  Ferrari 308 GT 350        1979
Corrizzoni   Tom        03  49:04 025  Chevrolet Monte Carlo     1972
Coumo        ?          03  00:00 033  Studebaker                1972
Cowell       Jack       03  37:33 003  Mercedes-Benz 280 SEL     1972
Crabbe       Paul       03  45:39 021  Opel Rallye               1972
Cripe        Tom        05  44:13 032  Lotus Esprit              1979
Crittenden   Jim        05  36:00 008  Buick Park Avenue         1979
Dainko       Rainec     03  40:55 010  Chevrolet Van             1972
Davidson     Stuart     05  46:48 036  Ferrari 330 GT            1979
Dawn         Wes        02  00:00 008  MGB GT                    1971
                        03  39:35 007  Chevrolet Vega            1972
                        04  38:16 004  Mercedes-Benz 450 SL      1975
                        05  36:49 012  Cadillac Eldorado         1979
De Van       Fred       03  39:29 006  Mazda RX-2                1972
Defty        Peter      05  45:32 033  Chevrolet Suburban        1979
Denner       Tom        03  41:06 012  Chevrolet Vega            1972
Dennison     Scott      03  40:55 010  Chevrolet Van             1972
Doherty      Richard    05  35:17 006  Mazda RX-7                1979
Dornsife     Rod        05  42:27 028  Porsche 928               1979
Dunaj        Jon        05  36:19 009  Mercedes-Benz 300 D       1979
Durst        Steve      03  00:00 027  Chevrolet Vega            1972
Egloff       George     05  43:32 030  Suzuki 850 Motorcycle     1979
Ehrich       Terry      05  61:51 040  Ford Panel Truck          1979
Epstein      Wendy      05  43:32 030  Suzuki 850 Motorcycle     1979
Erickson     Morris     03  46:17 022  Opel Rallye               1972
Fassler      Paul       05  37:25 014  Porsche 930               1979
Faust        David      05  36:51 013  Chevrolet Malibu          1979
Feiner       Fred       03  00:00 033  Studebaker                1972
                        04  44:23 016  Studebaker                1975
Fergusson    Alice      03  42:08 015  Citroen DS 19             1972
Fergusson    Joe        03  42:08 015  Citroen DS 19             1972
Fernald      Steve      04  40:31 010  Volvo 164 E               1975
Field        Dick       05  32:59 002  Merecedes-Benz 450 SEL 6.9 1979
Fischer      Paul       03  41:01 011  Ford Torino               1972
                        04  40:53 013  Ford Torino               1975
Fog          Steven     05  34:07 004  Pontiac Firebird Trans Am 1979
Frankl       Andrew     05  65:55 041  Ford Mini Truck           1979
Fransson     Joe        03  44:42 019  Travco Motorhome          1972
Fuchs        John       03  41:15 013  American Hornet           1972
Gafford      Tom        05  45:32 033  Chevrolet Suburban        1979
Gallagher    ?          03  00:00 034  Honda 600                 1972
Garbarini    Steve      03  48:25 024  Datsun 240 Z              1972
Garcione     William    03  48:25 024  Datsun 240 Z              1972
Gilmartin    Richard    03  37:33 003  Mercedes-Benz 280 SEL     1972
Goodman      Kirby      05  36:51 013  Chevrolet Malibu          1979
Gould        Richard    04  41:35 015  Oldsmobile Cutlass        1975
Graham       Paul       05  39:45 022  Chevrolet Camaro          1979
Gregory      Fred       05  00:00 045  Pontiac Firebird Trans Am 1979
Gurney       Dan       +02  35:54 001  Ferrari Daytona           1971
Hammil       ?          03  00:00 029  Porsche 911               1972
Harmston     Edwin      05  58:04 039  Rolls Royce Silver Wraith 1975
Harris       Richard    03  00:00 033  Studebaker                1972
                        04  44:23 016  Studebaker                1975
Harrison     John       05  00:00 044  Lotus Esprit              1979
Heinz        Dave      +05  32:51* 001 Jaguar XJS                1979
Henry        Bill       03  41:06 012  Chevrolet Vega            1972
Herisko      Ron        02  36:56 003  Cadillac Coupe De Ville   1971
Hickey       Tom        05  32:59 002  Mercedes-Benz 450 SEL 6.9 1979
Hitchins     John       05  65:55 041  Ford Mini Truck           1979
Honegger     Pierre     04  39:22 008  Mazda RX-4                1975
Hopkins `    Danny      03  38:02 004  De Tomaso Pantera         1972
Hopkins      Hoppy      03  38:02 004  De Tomaso Pantera         1972
Hoschek      Gero       05  43:47 031  Jensen Intercepter        1979
Houge        Larry      03  46:17 022  Opel Rallye               1972
Hourihan     Bob        04  40:31 010  Volvo 164 E               1975
Howlett      Jack       04  38:45 006  Buick Electra             1975
Hunt         Jim        05  41:00 026  Ford Thunderbird          1979
James        Dirk       05  43:32 030  Suzuki 850 Motorcycle     1979
Jeanes       William    04  45:36 017  Travco Motorhome          1975
Jellison     Rich       03  57:19 026  Chevrolet Corvette        1972
Jenkins      Richard    03  38:37 005  Alfa Romeo Guilia         1972
Jessen       John       03  57:19 026  Chevrolet Corvette        1972
Jessick      Peter      05  40:53 025  Chrysler                  1979
Johnson      Gary       03  00:00 031  Austin Healey             1972
                        04  37:50 002  Chevrolet Pickup          1975
Jones        David      05  38:10 017  Chevrolet Blazer          1979
Kendall-Lane Fiona      05  58:04 039  Rolls Royce Silver Wraith 1979
Kendall-Lane Stephen    05  58:04 039  Rolls Royce Silver Wraith 1979
Kenny        ?          03  00:00 032  Chevrolet Camaro Z 28     1972
Kepler       Fred       03  00:00 032  Chevrolet Camaro Z 28     1972
Key          Robert     05  48:53 037  Shelby  Mustang GT 350    1979
Kirby        Jim        05  36:40 011  Chevrolet Camaro Z 28     1979
Kopec        Rich       05  48:53 037  Shelby Mustang GT 350     1979
Kovaleski    Oscar      02  36:47 002  Chevrolet Van             1971
Kovaleski    Bob        04  36:40 011  Chevrolet Camaro Z 28     1979
Kozlowski    Tom        04  39:22 008  Mazda RX-4                1975
Lane         John       05  37:31 015  Porsche 928               1979
Leib         Dick       03  44:54 020  Pontiac                   1972
Leonard      Tom        05  37:46 016  Chevrolet Camaro Z 28     1979
Lincoln      Sam        03  49:04 025  Chevrolet Monte Carlo     1972
Lloyd        David      05  36:00 008  Buick Park Avenue         1979
Locke        Pete       03  40:11 009  Chrysler                  1972
Loveli       Bill       05  41:00 026  Ford Thunderbird          1979
Lynch        Leo        03  00:00 030  Porsche 911               1972
                        04  38:39 005  Porsche 911               1975
Mahler      John        05  37:46 016  Chevrolet Camaro Z 28     1979
Marbut      Tom         02  37:45 004  Dodge Van                 1971
Marget      Pete        03  41:41 014  Datsun 510                1972
Marshall    Pierce      05  36:51 013  Chevrolet Malibu          1979
Martin      Charles     05  45:32 033  Chevrolet Suburban        1979
Martin      Chauncey    03  43:02 016  Ford Van                  1972
Martini     Jeff        04  39:22 008  Mazda RX-4                1975
                        05  36:49 012  Cadillac Eldorado         1979
May         Jack       +04  35:53 001  Ferrari Dino 246 GTS      1975
Mayo        Edward      05  38:10 017  Chevrolet Blazer          1979
McCathey    Charlie     05  36:19 009  Mercedes-Benz 300 D       1979
McConkey    Ron         04  40:43 012  Pontiac Firebird Trans Am 1975
McCoy       Jack        04  37:50 002  Chevrolet Pickup          1975
McCoy       Peggy       04  37:50 002  Chevrolet Pickup          1975
McPaul      ?           03  00:00 029  Porsche 911               1972
McGovern    John        04  41:35 015  Oldsmobile Cutlass        1975
                        05  58:04 039  Rolls Royce Silver Wraith 1979
McGrail     Tom         03  44:42 019  Travco Motorhome          1972
                        04  45:36 017  Travco Motorhome          1975
McMeekan    George      03  44:54 020  Pontiac                   1972
McPherson   ?           03  00:00 031  Austin Healey             1972
McWhorter   Donald      05  41:17 027  Chevrolet Corvette        1979
McWhorter   Gerald      05  41:17 027  Chevrolet Corvette        1979
Menesini    Dennis      05  34:52 005  Chevrolet Pickup          1979
Menke       Vern        04  40:53 013  Ford Torino               1975
Menzel      Mike        05  00:00 046  Fiat 127                  1979
Micek       John        05  40:53 025  Chrysler                  1979
Miller      James       03  43:45 018  Bradley GT                1972
Miller      Mark        05  34:52 005  Chevrolet Pickup          1979
Miller      Robin       03  39:35 007  Chevrolet Vega            1972
Mims        Donna Mae   03  00:00 028  Cadillac Limousine        1972
Mockett     Doug        05  40:53 025  Chrysler                  1979
Moody       Dave        03  41:01 011  Ford Torino               1972
Moore       Bill        05  40:53 025  Chrysler                  1979
Morin       Holly       02  39:03 006  Dodge Van                 1971
Morton      Tom         03  41:01 011  Ford Torino               1972
                        04  40:33 013  Ford Torino               1975
Moses       Sam         05  39:29 021  Ford Mustang Boss 302     1979
Mullen      Jim         05  40:11 023  Ferrari SWB               1979
Mullen      Joan        05  40:11 023  Ferrari SWB               1979
Needham     Hal         05  00:00 043  Dodge Van                 1979
Nehl        Tom         04  41:32 014  Porsche 911               1975
Nerger      Ursula      05  43:47 031  Jensen Intercepter        1979
Nichols     John        05  39:45 022  Chevrolet Camaro          1979
Nickel      Gil         04  38:16 004  Mercedes-Benz 450 SL      1975
Niemcek     Brad        02  36:47 002  Chevrolet Van             1971
                        03  00:00 027  Chevrolet Van             1972
                        04  40:37 011  Ford Van                  1975
Niemcek     Peggi       03  00:00 028  Cadillac Limousine        1972
Nunn        Spike       03  41:41 014  Datsun 510                1972
O'Brien     Robert      04  41:35 015  Oldsmobile Cutlass        1975
O'Donnell   Bill        05  53:00 038  Cadillac Eldorado         1979
Olds        Fred       +03  37:16 001  Cadillac Coupe De Ville   1972
                        04  40:31 010  Volvo 164 E               1975
Opert       Larry       02  36:56 003  Cadillac Sedan De Ville   1971
Paggio      Massimo     05  00:00 046  Fiat 127                  1979
Parker      Pal         02  57:25 007  Travco Motorhome          1971
                        03  44:42 019  Travco Motorhome          1972
                        04  45:36 017  Travco Motorhome          1975
Pash        Phil        02  57:25 007  Travco Motorhome          1971
Patchett    Keith       05  72:54 042  BMW R 90/6 Motorcycle     1979
Pearson     Jack        04  38:45 006  Buick Electra             1975
Peeler      Jim         05  46:48 036  Ferrari 330 GT            1979
Perlow      Bob         02  00:00 008  MGB GT                    1971
Pfeifer     S.          03  47:28 023  Ford Pinto                1972
Pierce      Jeff        05  33:42 003  Pontiac Firebird Trans Am 1979
Pitt        Jesse       03  40:11 009  Chrysler                  1972
Poston      Becky       02  37:45 004  Dodge Van                 1971
Prentiss    Larry       05  46:37 035  Porsche Carrera           1979
Pritch      Mark        05  36:52 018  Ferrari 308 GT 350        1979
Pritzker    Nate        02  36:56 003  Cadillac Sedan De Ville   1971
Pryor       Bill        04  49:32 018  Bristol 410               1975
                        05  40:33 024  Volvo 242 GT              1979
Quartararo  Tony        05  46:48 036  Ferrari 330 GT            1979
Race        Donald      05  53:00 038  Cadillac Eldorado         1979
Ralston     Benjamin    05  46:37 035  Porsche Carrera           1979
Ramsey      John        03  43:28 017  Ford Torino               1972
Rasmussen   Buzz        05  39:20 020  Chevrolet El Camino       1979
Regan       Ken         04  40:37 011  Ford Van                  1975
Richardson  Tad         05  35:17 006  Mazda RX-7                1979
Riggs       Clyde       05  36:49 012  Cadillac Eldorado         1979
Robison     Charlie     05  34:52 005  Chevrolet Pickup          1979
Roder       Dick        03  40:55 010  Chevrolet Van             1972
Romine      Chris       05  35:58 007  Ferrari 308 GTS           1979
Rosenblatt  Joel        05  36:00 008  Buick Park Avenue         1979
Rost        Bob         03  38:37 005  Alfa Romeo Guilia         1972
Rowzie      Dan         04  38:39 005  Porsche 911 RSR           1975
Royer       Lyle        05  00:00 043  Dodge Van                 1979
Satullo     Sandy       04  38:45 006  Buick Electra             1975
                        05  36:49 012  Pontiac                   1979
Satullo     Stuart      05  36:49 012  Pontiac                   1979
Satullo II  Sandy       04  38:45 006  Buick Electra             1975
                        05  36:49 012  Pontiac                   1979
Scarlato    Jerry       04  45:36 017  Travco Motorhome          1975
Schmitt     Charles     05  53:00 038  Cadillac Eldorado         1979
Scott       Dick        03  00:00 030  Porsche 911               1972
Scribner    Doug        03  49:04 025  Chevrolet Monte Carlo     1972
Sellyei     Louis       05  39:10 019  Jaguar XJS                1979
Sencenbaugh Jim         05  45:32 033  Chevrolet Suburban        1979
Seneki      Alex        05  46:31 034  Mercedes-Benz 300 SEL 6.3 1979
Shugars     Dave        04  40:43 012  Pontiac Firebird Trans Am 1975
Sibio       Albert Jr.  05  36:40 011  Chevrolet Camaro Z 28     1979
Simkin      Daniel      05  36:20 010  Excalibur                 1979
Smith       Gary        05  39:45 022  Chevrolet Camaro          1979
Smith       Ken         05  34:52 005  Chevrolet Pickup          1979
Smith       Steve      +01  40:51 001  Dodge Sportsman Van       1971
Snyder      Michael     05  33:42 003  Pontiac Firebird Trans Am 1979
Solski      Paul        03  39:29 006  Mazda RX-2                1972
Sportiche   Alain       05  46:31 034  Mercedes-Benz 300 SEL 6.3 1979
Spreadbury  Bill        03  47:28 023  Ford Pinto                1972
Stanner     Bud         03  37:26 002  Dodge Challenger          1972
Stanton     Chick       04  38:56 007  Porsche Carrera           1975
                        05  42:28 029  Porsche Carrera           1979
Stephenson  ?           03  00:00 034  Honda 600                 1972
Stevens     David       05  36:20 010  Excalibur                 1979
Stropus     Judy        03  00:00 028  Cadillac Limousine        1972
Taayjes     Bob         03  43:45 018  Bradley GT                1972
Talbert     R.A.        03  44:54 020  Pontiac                   1972
Taylor      Justus      05  61:51 040  Ford Panel Truck          1979
Thibeau     John        03  45:39 021  Opel Rallye               1972
Trefethen   Jon         03  43:28 017  Ford Torino               1972
Truesdale   Loyal       05  72:54 042  BMW R 90/6 Motorcycle     1979
Turkovich   Bob         04  40:37 011  Ford Van                  1975
Unkefer     Duane       03  43:02 016  Ford Van                  1972
Villeneuve  Jacques     05  37:31 015  Porsche 928               1979
Visniewski  Scott       05  38:10 017  Chevrolet Blazer          1979
Walle       Ray         04  39:22 008  Mazda RX-4                1975
Ward        Ken         05  43:32 030  Suzuki 850 Motorcycle     1979
Ward        Steve       05  43:32 030  Suzuki 850 Motorcycle     1979
Warner      Bill        04  41:32 014  Porsche 911               1975
Waters      Randy       02  37:45 004  Dodge Van                 1971
Weglarz     Dennis      04  40:43 012  Pontiac Firebird Trans Am 1975
Whiteside   Mark        05  34:07 004  Pontiac Firebird Trans Am 1979
Williams    Jim        +01  40:51 001  Dodge Sportsman Van       1971
Williams    Willie      05  38:10 017  Chevrolet Blazer          1979
Willig      George      05  39:29 021  Ford Mustang Boss 302     1979
Yarborough  Dave       +05  32:51* 001 Jaguar XJS                1979
Yates       Brock      +01  40:51 001  Dodge Sportsman Van       1971
                       +02  35:54 001  Ferrari Daytona           1971
                        03  37:26 002  Dodge Challenger          1972
                        04  38:03 003  Dodge Challenger          1975
                        05  00:00 043  Dodge Van                 1979
Yates       Brock, Jr. +01  40:51 001  Dodge Sportsman Van       1971
Yates       Pamela      05  00:00 043  Dodge Van                 1979
Ziegel      Robert      05  37:25 014  Porsche 930               1979
Zoeltner    Andreas     05  43:47 031  Jensen Intercepter        1979

Learn More:

• Cannonball!: World’s Greatest Outlaw Road Race: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0760316333?ie=UTF8&tag=maseffdea-20&linkCode=shr&camp=213733&creative=393185&creativeASIN=0760316333&ref_=sr_1_1&s=books&qid=1336579102&sr=1-1
• Wikipedia - Cannonball Baker Sea-To-Shining-Sea Memorial Trophy Dash: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cannonball_Baker_Sea-To-Shining-Sea_Memorial_Trophy_Dash
• Gurney/Yates Cop First Cannonball: http://www.allamericanracers.com/cannonball.html
• 1975 Car and Driver Article: http://www.onelapofamerica.com/cannonball/index.shtml?cball=article1975
• The Year of Living Vicariously: http://johnmikes.home.comcast.net/~johnmikes/cannonball/index.htm
• The Last Cannonball: http://www.caranddriver.com/features/the-last-cannonball-feature
• 40th Anniversary Of The Cannonball Run: http://autospotters.com/2011/05/22/40th-anaversury-of-the-cannonball-run/
• The Cannonball Run (film): http://www.amazon.com/mn/search/?_encoding=UTF8&tag=maseffdea-20&linkCode=shr&camp=213733&creative=393193&field-keywords=cannonball&url=search-alias%3Dmovies-tv
• The Gumball Rally (film): http://www.amazon.com/mn/search/?_encoding=UTF8&tag=maseffdea-20&linkCode=shr&camp=213733&creative=393193&rally=&field-keywords=gumball+rally&url=search-alias%3Dmovies-tv

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Over the next few weeks, we are going to take you from the genesis of the endurance road trip to the modern international road rally. Each day we will share a bite sized history lesson about the development of this motorsport. We hope that you’ll join us for this absolutely fascinating ride.

Humans have an inherent need to understand invention. Whether it be existence, their favorite dish, or an engine - we all crave the knowledge of blueprints. Modern day, long distance, road rally events are no exception. These endurance rallies mark their inception back to a key inflection point. His name was Erwin ‘Cannonball’ Baker.

Baker was born in Indiana in 1882. After finding a knack for motorcycling, he went on to win the first ever race at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway held in 1909. Baker’s next step was to race passenger trains from city to city. Not surprisingly, he won most of the time. Shortly thereafter, he made his first 14,000 mile motorcycle trip at the age of 30. This trip went on to be the catalyst for 143 driving records over the next 20 years.

In 1914 he made the first Pacific to Atlantic transcontinental run on an Indian motorcycle in 11 days. 98 years ago. This was six years after the first Model T Fords were sold. Roads as we know it did not exist. Try to fathom how difficult that trip must have been.

After his record-setting transcontinental drive, he received the nickname “Cannon Ball” from a New York newspaper writer who compared him to the Cannonball train of the Illinois Central railroad. This name would stick with him over the five million miles he would ride. His stories of outrunning forest fires and overseas rides would become motorsport legend.

Cannonball could not describe why he was so passionate about these trips. Yet by the time he died in 1960, at 78, his influence on motorsport was widely recognized. Still, he could not have imagined the inspiration he would have on car fanatics for years to come.

Tomorrow, we will discuss the 1970’s Cannonball Baker Sea-to-Shining-Sea Memorial Trophy Dash. See how this is already beginning to connect?

Talk about this with us using the #RallyPulse hashtag on Twitter or visit our Facebook Page!

Learn More:

• Wikipedia- Erwin Baker: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Erwin_Baker
• AMA Motorcycle Hall of Fame - Erwin Baker: http://www.motorcyclemuseum.org/halloffame/detail.aspx?racerid=15
• Crown Hill Cemetary - Erwin Baker: http://www.crownhillhf.org/docs/CannonBallBaker.pdf
• Finding Cannon Bal’s Trail: http://www.cannonballproject.com/content/

• Connect with SportsCarHunter.com:
• Join the #RallyPulse
• Twitter
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